Canary Songs - SYOT
by maddymellark
Summary: When the canary stops singing, it's time to get out. Welcome to the 57th Hunger Games. {Closed SYOT but read anyway! T for language violence}
1. Introduction

**Iris Mason, 19, District 2, Victor of the 56th Hunger Games POV**

" _We should split up."_

 _I turn to look at my tiny ally, 13 year old Bailey from District 8. "What?" I ask her, shocked beyond belief. Split up? Why would we do that? There's 8 other people out there, 4 of them careers, she'll be dead by morning. "We should split up." She repeats, slower this time. "Why would we do that?" I ask, but she's already halving our supplies and putting them into her rucksack. "Before you kill me." She says, matter-of-factly._

 _I stare at her in shock. "I'm not going to kill you, Bailey." I say, confused. She turns to me, her icy blue eyes boring into my dull brown ones. She doesn't say anything, but gets up. "Bye, Iris."_

 _And then I see him, Hunter from District 2, my district partner, behind her. Instinctively I grab my axe, and jump to my feet. Bailey is on the ground with a mace in her head before I have a chance to speak. "Iris." He says, staring straight at me, and suddenly he changes. He's a monster, half bear, half wolf, who lunges at me, screaming. I run, hot tears streaming down my face as he chants my name behind me. I try to turn and throw my axe, but it lands half-heartedly in a tree behind us. I can hear him now, his breath in my ear. "Iris, Iris, Iris."_

I wake with a cry, sitting upright. The sheets are on the floor, and I'm covered in sweat. "You killed him," I repeat to myself, "it's okay, he's gone." I take a deep breath and flop back on my bed. I don't let myself cry. Recently I've found myself wondering, if I had used those three seconds to warn Bailey instead of grabbing my axe - would she be alive? Would she be in a house in District 8 in Victors Village? Would it be her plagued by these nightmares, whilst I'm buried six feet under? I shake the thoughts from my head and get up to draw the curtains. The lazy pink sky makes me smile for a second, before I see the Peacekeepers decorate the town square. I feel sick. This is my first year of mentoring. This is Reaping Day.

This, is the 57th Hunger Games

 _AN_

 _Rules and SYOT form are on ny page! ONLY Pms submitting tributes will be allowed, no guests. :)_


	2. District One Reapings

**AN**

 **This took way longer than I thought it would, so sorry for the wait! But here is District One reapings! 10M is still open, so submit!**

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Aeldaea Martin, 17

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A small yell escapes from my lips as I slash the dummy to bits. I quickly move through the course, leaving a trail of decapitated dummies in my wake. The sun is slowly crawling up the sky, smearing it an array of colours, mainly oranges and pinks, although the clock only reads five thirty.

I finish the course and turn around, looking at my work with a proud smile. Thirty two seconds - the academies (and my personal) best. Nobody else is here, nobody else is awake in the dorms above, so I let myself give a loud "whoop".

I put the longsword back into the rack and step back to admire the weapon. Swords are my best weapon, closely followed by any other short range weapon. I am the academies best, I have come first in sword-fighting the Yearly Cup for the past seven years. A small smile lingers on my lips. Thirteen years I've been here. Thirteen years since I decided to leave my family behind. Thirteen years, and they still haven't bothered looking.

Of course, I still see my parents. My mother, mostly. Being _the_ Goldenlake Martin, Victor of the 28th Games, she comes in annually for the Yearly Cup, mainly to do stations on survival. But I don't bother with survival so I never go over. Why should I? She would probably just ignore me and besides, what use is their for learning survival? The cornucopia will have everything I need.

"The swords interesting then?"

I jump slightly at the sudden sound, but relax and turn around as I recognise the voice. Taylor, my best friend. She's perched on a windowsill, looking at me with a cocked eyebrow. I had been so lost in my thoughts I didn't hear her come in. I giggle a little and walk over to her. "You're here early." I say, hoisting myself up besides her. She turns to face me as I come over, her very typically District One blonde hair flicking over her shoulder as she does so.

We're both you're typical District One girls, I guess. Tall, slim and blonde, with blue eyes. But whereas hers are dull blue, mine are piercing, almost a grey. "Yeah well, couldn't sleep. Decided to come here, thought I'd bee the first one. Apparently not." She jokes.

"Figured I'd get some last practice in before I leave." I shrug, turning away from her. We both knew I'd be volunteering since we were 15, and I'm not saying I have doubts or regrets, I still definitely want to go- it's just, leaving Taylor will be hard. I'll be back before I know it, I have no doubts about that, but it will be weird not seeing her every day. God, if I'm like this with her, what will I be like With Secret?

We chat for a while, stupid topics about the upcoming prom, Diamond Carter's tacky blonde highlights, and who hooked up with who at my latest party. But none of it means anything, we're just filling up the silence. Finally the six o'clock alarm rings, and I can hear the people upstairs stirring. "That's my cue to leave." Taylor says, grinning. "I'll see you later, Allie." I wave and watch her leave, but then turn my attention to the trickle of teenagers coming downstairs.

The Training Academy is a large building, the biggest training academy in Panem and making District Two's look very small in comparison. A few years back, as well as being a Training Academy, it began to take people of in. Not everyone, mind, and it didn't become an orphanage. You had to pass hard, physical tests, varying from age group to age group, to get in. One afternoon I left the house in a strip after being told I would never volunteer, I would get a job like a lady. Everyone thought I'd come back, but I didn't. I passed the infants test and quickly ended up being the trainers favourite. To them, it was easy who the girl tribute would be for the 57th Games.

I join everyone else in the canteen for breakfast. Seeing as I'll be on TV soon and I want to look good, I opt for a pot of fresh fruit and water. When I sit down, a flock of girls follow me. I'm popular, yeah. A "queen bee" type figure here in District One. If I'm honest, I don't know half these girls names. As I finish my breakfast, a small stream of non-borders are coming through the door, doing some training. I pause for a second to watch a young girl, about 12, pick up a longsword - and then drop it. I just smirk.

District Ones Reapings go first, so they start in about an hour. I go upstairs to my room, and begin to prepare for the reapings. I want to look good for the cameras, so I pick out a flowy blue dress. It matches my eyes perfectly. Next, I slip on my white crystal necklace and matching earrings and shoes. I do my make up, basic apart from the blue eyeshadow that also matches my dress. I brush my long, flowing blonde hair and leave it down. I stand back and looking at the mirror, smirking. I look beautiful, but also ice cold and dangerous. Perfect.

I'm interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by a gruff "it's reaping time."

Now that the moments here, I feel giddy with excitement. I rush down the stairs and easily overtake everyone else out of the door. I'm fast, and nimble on my feet- even with heels. I scan the crowd of people making their way to the Square, and spot two figures leaning against a wall opposite the academy. I wave cooly and begin to walk over. "Hey!" I smile, addressing them.

Taylor gives me a "hey" back and Secret takes me into his arms. "Hey." He whispers into my ears. I grin, kiss him on the cheek and pull away. "Ready to go?" Taylor asks, grimacing at us. I giggle and slip my hand into Secret's, and we begin to walk.

Once at the Town Square, we check in and then Taylor and I leave for our section, whilst Secret goes to his. "I'll see you in the Justice Building, Allea." I stand next to Taylor, both of us calm and collected. A straggle of twelve year of a nervously make their way into their section, and I hear Taylor laugh at them quietly. There's a positive vibe, a low murmer of chatting and laughing, before it all suddenly goes quiet as our escort comes out.

Luna Cresent has been our escort for the past four years, and I think we're all relieved. She's one of the better escorts, quite pretty with a celestial themed look - a dark blue velvet dress with small white gems to represent stars, and matching blue hair. She starts to talk about what an honour it is to be here today, and shows us a video that nobody really pays attention to. By now I'm so excited that I didn't realise I was squeezing Taylor's hand before she snatches it back with a barely audible "ow." I giggle quietly, but stop when Luna announces that she'll be picking the female name. I'm so excited I think every one around me can hear my heartbeat.

"Bella Quartz!" Luna announces, and the girl I saw with the sword earlier this morning doesn't even have a chance to make it to the stage before I yell, "I volunteer!"

"How lovely!" Luna beams, but she's drowned out by my whooping and cheering as I make it to the stage. I pump the air with my fist as she hands me the microphone.

"And what's your name?" She asks, still smiling.

"My name is Aeldaea Martin and I am going to win this year's Hunger Games!" The crowd cheers but I can see that the older citizens from District One around the edges recognize the Martin name, and are murmuring to one another. Thankfully Luna calls the male tribute before they say anything.

I dont pay much attention to him, but as we shake hands I realise that because of how big this guy is, he could be competition. I see him around the Academy on weekends, and realise he was reaped, not volunteered. Why didn't Jemma volunteer like he was chosen to do? But I'm not scared of him. He's huge, yes, but despite his outburst, he always seems so helpless and kind. With his career training he'll probably be in the pack, but I bet he'll be easy to kill off.

We're escorted to the Justice Building where I'm sat in a luxurious, purple velvet room. All my academy friends have said goodbye and my family has shunned me for thirteen years, so it's just Taylor and Secret. The goodbyes are brief, we've known this was happening for ages now, so anything they've wanted to said they've said. With one last "I love you!" From Secret, I'm taken to the train.

And suddenly, I find myself a tribute in the Hunger Games.

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Glistening Marble Dedka, 18

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Sunday has always been wash day in District One Orphanage, officially shortened to the DOO, and known as the doodoo to the younger kids. Being the third eldest there, I'm the third to get washed. We're lucky here in District One. Us and Two are the Capitol's favourites, and so we get the luxury of hot water straight from the tap. Although, there are 44 kids here, including the babies, and I remember being the youngest at one point and there being no hot water by the time it came round to me.

I've just finished washing away the soap duds when Foebe starts banging on the door for me to "get my lazy ass out the bath and start getting changed." I chuckle to myself quietly and swing my legs out of the tub and stand up. We're supposed to call Foebe "Ms Cutter", or even "Matron" when the inspectors come round, but we rarely do. There are two carers here, Foebe and her twin sister Freja. I prefer Foebe, even though she's normally so busy with the younger kids I don't think she knows I exist.

Freja specialises in older children, so she spends a lot more time with us. Me. And so she knows who I really am. She knows that I act kind, caring and sweet but she's seen me when I think nobody's watching. She's seen me be ruthless and uncaring, cold and unforgiving. And even though she never says anything, just glares from afar, I still try to stay out of her way.

I towel myself dry and wrap it around my waist before unlocking the bathroom door hurrying along the corridor and into Boys Dorm 4. The other 4 boys aren't here at the moment, so I make my way over to the wardrobe I share with them and look through the clothes. We have three sections of the wardrobe - formal clothes, casual clothes and Reaping clothes. All the Reaping clothes are the same for every child in the DOO - almost like a uniform. I slip on the khaki trousers and button up the black dress shirt.

I walk over to the mirror and stare at my reflection. Dark skin, hair and eyes - nothing special. With a sigh I try to fix my hair but then decide I don't care and leave it as it is. In the reflection my gaze drifts to the homemade tattoo of the snake winding around my bicep. The memory of Foebe and Freja's faces when they saw it made it so worth it. Never mind I was grounded for a month.

I'm interrupted from my thoughts when two of the other boys walk in, dressed in the same clothes as I am. One of them gives me a nod, which I half heartedly return. I don't have friends. Never have, never will. It's hard to explain really, but I think it's because of my personality. No, it _is_ because of my personality. I've always found it somewhat fun to be different to different people. Ask the people at The Training Academy and they'll tell you I'm a ruthless brute - and they'd be right. Ask the people of District One who don't know me very well, and they'll say I'm a sweet, caring boy who helps old ladies across the road. Ask the people of DOO and they'll just shrug and say I'm a freak, a loner.

It's a skill, though. If it ever came down to me going into the games, I could use it. And unlike most District One people, I don't plan on volunteering, despite training for 12 years. It's my last year of being eligible, and then I can finally be free. Once you've passed your last Reaping, you can leave the DOO. The boys in my dorm and I have already packed our bags and filed for a house.

A bell from downstairs is rung, and that's our cue that it's time to leave. I turn and walk past the boys and downstairs, where Foebe is pairing up younger kids to older ones to hold their hands whilst walking. I'm put with a sweet, 8 year old girl called Elinor, and out of the corner of my eye I see Freja watching and frowning. I look down at the girl and see that she's scared of being put with me, and it makes me feel powerful. I'm all set to give her to one of the older girls, when I realise that would prove Freja right. So, I switch from ruthless to sweet.

"Your dress looks very pretty." I lie, smiling down at her. It's the same as all the other dresses that the girls have to wear for Reapings- plain and white. She smiles a toothy grin and clutches my hand. It takes all I have not to pull it away, but I see Freja walk off so I let Elinor hold it. All of us march out of the home, and in our matching uniform and ranks of two we almost looked like some sort of army. When we reach the square, Elinor gets handed over to Foebe and I go to check in. The Peacekeeper takes my blood and then I'm pushed out of the way. I walk over to the 18 year old section where I stand, still in 'ultra-kind' mode. I smile at everyone who walks past, much to the confusion of my training partner from the academy who is stood beside me.

Luna Cresent walks onstage and babbles on. Lots of districts hate their escorts and I don't see why. They're Capitol representatives and without the Capitol what would we be? They feed us, clothe us and protect us. The outer districts are ungrateful, in my opinion.

Luna calls out the girls name and I recognise it as one of the younger girls from the DOO, Bella. Almost immediately, another girl volunteers. I zone out when I see her, she looks like your typical District One career. She seems so arrogant, punching the air and cheering like that, but everyone around me is clapping so I do too. Then she goes over to the male bowl.

My first two reapings I was so worried that I'd get picked that it occupied my thoughts nearly all the time in the few weeks leading up to the reaping. I then learnt that they have a volunteer system at the Academy, and even if I did get reaped someone will volunteer - so now I don't even bother to worry. In fact, I'm so carefree I begin to think about other things. It's little Ruby' s birthday today, so we'll probably get cake. Although, if Foebe makes it like last year I'm not too sure you can call it cake and-

"Dude!" Someone hisses from behind me, and hits me in the back with their elbow. I'm jolted out of my thoughts to find nearly everyone looking at me. I don't understand what's happening until Luna calls out, "Glistening? Is Glistening Marble Dedka here?" For a split second I'm shocked, but then fury takes over and I step over the rope. By the time I've made it to the stage, I'm so angry that when Luna hands me the microphone, the only words I can seem to form are, "see you fuckers later!"

Luna fake gasps in an attempt to stiffle her laugh, and quickly make me and the girl shake hands, and then we're shoved into the Justice Building. Truthfully, I didn't think anyone would come and visit me but deep down I'm a little disappointed. Not even Foebe comes.

I spend the hour in icy silence, staring at the portraits of the victors hanging above the coffee table - and devising a plan to get my photo on that wall.

 **AN**

 **so there's District One - Aeldaea Martin and Glistening Marble Dedka! What do you think of them? I tried to capture Glist's mixed personalities and Allea's popularity - did I do well? Constructive criticism is always appreciated as this is my first time writing a SYOT! Anyway, don't forget to submit - I can't write Chapter Two without D2 tributes:)**


	3. District Two Reapings

**AN**

 **Thanks a lot for all the reviews! To answer a question, no, there won't be a sponsor system because I think I'd probably lose track! And also, I have 16 tributes and only 2 of them are Bloodbaths, so please keep in mind that you're suggested placement and whether-or-not they're a Bloodbath isn't guaranteed! But anyway, here is District 2!**

 _Distirct 2 Reapings_

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Katrenna Avaricus, 18

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My lungs scream for more air that my body cannot provide, and my legs feel like lead as they pound the ground beneath me. Bit Marco is slowly catching up with me, and I cannot let him win. I will not endure the weeks of teasing afterwards. The finish line isn't far, only about 200 metres ahead. I can see the black and white banner waving in the harsh, early morning wind, and the same wind is entangling itself in my fire-red hair and nipping my ears and nose, turning them a matching colour.

Marco is by my side now, and out of the corner of my eye I can see his trade-mark smirk. He thinks hes going to win. I feel a sudden urge of competitiveness, and in the last 100 metres or so I turn it into power, taking longer strides and urging myself to go even faster, ignoring how my muscles complain.

I stagger over the line a second before Marco, and all I want to do is fall to the ground - but I don't. We both stand hunched over and gasping for air. Through my thick hair I see Marco struggling harder than I am to get his breath back. I am the best female long-distance runner in Two, and that was a brutal run, so I can only imagine what it is like for him. I stand up at the same time as he does, and I make a show of wearing a smile of triumph, earning daggers from him.

"That was close," he says, his voice still raspy, "really close." I just snicker at him and begin to do some stretches to cool down, although really I could use a few more minutes recovering, but I want to show him how good I am. Marco joins me after a couple of seconds, and then we both begin to walk back. We did three laps of the cross country trial used as a fitness test at the end of every Academy term, and although it was hard and demanding, I feel better now. Refreshed.

Outside the Academy, I say goodbye to Marco but as I turn, he grabs my elbow and turns me back to him. "What?" I snap, taken by surprised. He just grins, before saying, "rematch when you come back?" I laugh and walk away.

I pass Victors Village, and pause for a second to look. Quite a few of the houses are occupied, and there is a low hum of activity around it. As one of the more elderly victors leans out the window to take a breath of fresh air, I can't help but wonder who will be my mentor this year. After a few more seconds, I turn on my heel and walk. Several minutes later and I'm walking up the muddy path to my street. Before I get to my house, I see Elena kneeling in the front garden, spade in hand. I grin and break into a run, and then slow down to a walk again when my thighs start to burn.

I push open the gate, which gives a hideous creak, alerting Elena I'm here. She cranes her neck around, and smiles when she sees me. "Kat!" she cries, and I scowl at the nickname, which makes her laugh. She quickly places the plant she had in her hands back down, brushes her hands and stands up, coming over to me. "Morning." I grin, as she throws one arm around me and we walk inside. Because of her being forty, lots of people think she's my mother - and they would be right, in a way. I love mother, but Elena will be more of a parent to me than Father ever will be.

Speaking of, when we get inside he's already sat at the kitchen table, newspaper In his hands and a mug of coffee next to him. I scowl at him and his grey hair, even though he can't see me. I slip away from Elena and make my way further into the kitchen, suddenly ravenous. I had some bread and jam before I left this morning, but I've burnt that all off. Elena makes pleasant small-talk with Father, and even tries to get me to join in as I butter my bread, but I only reply with grunts.

Plate in hand, I begin to walk upstairs when a firm, "Katrenna," stops me in my tracks. I grit my teeth together before turning around, furrowing my eyebrows. "Yes?" I say, putting all my weight on one leg and a hand on my hip, so he knows I'm bored. "Where are you going with that bread?" He asks, not even looking up from his paper. "To my room." I snap, losing patience.

"You'll make a mess." He says, and even though I am fuming right now, I sit opposite him, knowing I cannot win this one. He finally looks up over his glasses, and raises a bushy eyebrow. "The big day today then?" He says. I know he doesn't want me to volunteer, but when I was reaped, I was _this_ close to going into the Games aged twelve. I only didn't because of some girl out of pity.

"Yes." I say, choosing to ignore the obvious sarcasam dripping in his voice. Nobody speaks after that, and Elena leaves to finish the garden again quietly, leaving us alone. I eat my bread in silence, wash up my plate and leave the room.

Upstairs, I flop back on my bed, grab the nearest pillow and scream into it. After I've let everything out, I flick my gaze up to the clock hanging above my door. It reads seven, so I have an hour to get ready. I pick out a bright, crimson dress from my wardrobe, and pair it with 8 inch, golden heels. I brush through my hair and step back, happy. "Trenna!" I hear Mother call, and I step out my room and begin to walk downstairs, where all three of them are waiting. "You look stunning Tren!" Elena exclaims, pulling my closer and looping her arm through mine. "Beautiful!" Mother smiles, but Father doesn't say anything. "Have anything to add, Hugo?" she says, glaring at him, but he pretends not to hear. She's about to say something again, when Elena interrupts her, saying it's time to go.

We walk to the town square, and then I leave them to go sign in. In the line, I quickly meet up with Marco. He's planning on Volunteering as well this year, and although I'll be sad to kill my best friend, I know I won't linger on it for too long. "See you on the stage." He winks before walking off to his section, and I walk to mine.

I'm stood next to some girls from the Academy, who are all congratulating me on getting picked, and wishing me luck. We're interrupted by Candie Flosse, our escort, walking on stage , her skin, hair, make up and outfit all pink. She makes a speech in her high, squeaky voice, which earns a few sniggers, and then plays the video. But then, it is the moment we all came for.

"Our female tribute is," she squeaks, opening the slip of paper. I already have one leg out of the rope. "Paula Di Maro!"

The girl doesn't even bother to step out, and I've yelled "I volunteer!" before she could even have a chance to. I meet Candie on stage, and she passes me the microphone. "I am Katrenna Avaricus, your soon-to-be Victor of the 57th Huger Games!" The crowd cheers, and somewhere I see the figure of a middle-aged-man leave. Couldn't even stick around to say goodbye. I decide I don't care, I don't need my Father.

I stand, arms-crossed and looking confident whilst she opens the male's slip of paper. She doesn't even get a chance to open her mouth when two boys, at the same time, say "I volunteer!" Oh, this should be interesting.

One of them is Marco, who is looking furiously for the other boy. Big mistake. In the time it's taken for him to figure out who the voice belongs to, the boy has run up to the stage and taken the spot next to me. I'm too busy focused on Marco's shocked and angry expression that I don't hear this other guy's name. I turn to shake his hand and then we're ushered into the Justice Building.

There, mother and Elena sweep into the room, a fury of excited voices and wails of how much they'll miss me, but there's no Father. Their visit is pretty quick, we talk strategy and then, with one final hug, they're gone. My other visitor is Marco. He spends most of the time whining about how _unfair_ it was that the other guy beat him, and didn't he have a better chance? I'm not listening for half of it, but when he turns to go, I pull him back like he did earlier to me this morning. "Hey," I say, suddenly wanting to say goodbye properly, but I don't know what to say. I don't need luck, and "goodbye" seems so stupid, and there's _definitely_ no sudden love confessions to make. I let go of his arm. "Can't wait for that rematch." He leaves with a small laugh.

I sit back in the room, feeling excited. In a few weeks time, I will be back here. As a Victor.

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Aziel Slate, 17

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"Come _on,_ Slate!"  
"Wake up a bit, Lewis"  
"Now! Get him now, hes not looking!"  
"You're half asleep, Ryker!"

"Slate! Now! Go, go!"  
"Ryker, what are you _doing?"_

The two trainers bark orders from the corners, judging and watching our every move. The boy on top, my best friend, training partner and a huge guy named Ryker Lewis, growls as the older man calls him a 'lazy lummox.' This isn't great for me, I know this guy. He'll get angry, and use it as power. I detect his next move pretty easily, moving my head just in time so that he punches the soft mat below us. He's confused, he thought he'd get me, and in a flash, I'm back on my feet.

"Good, Aziel."

I bask in the compliment for a second - my trainer is very hard to please. For a moment or two we both just size each other up. But just for show, we both know each others ins and outs. I see his eyes dart to my knees, but know that's just a trick, he'll go for my arms. I bounce on my toes and shake out my shoulders, waiting for him to come at me. He charges towards me with a yell, but it's easily detectable and I manage to throw a punch on his nose, and hear it crack beneath me, making Ryker fall to the knees.

"Get up Lewis! Get up!"

But he is on the floor groaning, cradling his nose with both hands. When he pulls them away they're covered in blood, and he looks up to glare at me. He begins to stand up, but I punch him square in the jaw and he falls back down again, growling. I punch him again, just to be sure. A whistle blows in the distance and Tobias, my trainer, jumps into the ring and cheers, more excited than I am.

I help Ryker up and instantly regret it, getting his blood on my hands. "Good match." I grin, shaking his hand, again regretting it after. There's a hint of joke in my voice, which earns me an eye roll, but I was brought up to be polite and respectful, and so I have to congratulate him. "Whatever." He grins, wiping the sweat off of his brow with the back of his hand. Tobias runs up to me, grabs my fist and holds it up in the air, although nobody is looking - Ryker and his trainer are leaving the ring. "Champion!" he cries, oblivious to my raised eyebrow. I laugh and shake free my hand, although Tobias doesn't notice. Come on, though, he must have known I'd win.

Not being big-headed or anything, but my biggest skill is my hand-to-hand combat, whereas Ryker is much more of a weapons guy, this was only a friendly match. Although, his broken nose and my soon-to-be black eye don't seem too friendly. We both make our way out of the ring and towards the door, where he stops me in my tracks. "Go on champ, make us proud." He playfully punches my shoulder and I just smile, and then walk out the door.

The cold morning wind chills me to the bone. I'm covered in sweat and I'm topless, and I realise the sudden drop in temperature can't be good for me, so I pick up the pace as I walk home. They haven't picked a male tribute for this year. The female tribute was easy; everyone knew it would be Katrenna. I've seen her work with poisons; I've already made a mental note not to take food for her - but then, I'm pretty good with them myself. The other careers better watch out, this year. But there were too many male competitors, so they've done a first-come-first-serve when it comes to volunteering.

Soon the house comes into view, and I'm halfway up the path when a call of "Aziel!" comes from behind me. I turn around and see a blonde figure. I can't make out the rest of the details but I already know who it is. "Valera!" I wave, and she breaks into a run, trying to halt when she reaches me but can't and ends up crashing into my chest, knocking us both over.

"Well." I grin, raising an eyebrow. She's fallen gracefully - and directly above me, her blonde curls tickling my face as she sits on my lap. She giggles, sitting backwards. "Thought I'd come to see you before you leave." She shrugs, picking a daisy from the ground beside us and toying with it. I prop myself up on my elbows, looking at her. "You'll see me in the Justice Building, Val." I point out, watching as she began to chain daisies together, making a bracelet. "I know, I just wanted something a bit longer than fifteen minutes, you know?" I smile and I'm about to say something else when the door behind me flies open.

"Aziel Slate!" Comes a shocked gasp, and I tilt my head back to see Mother stood in the doorway, hands on hips and trying not to laugh. Behind her I see Sif's blonde hair as she stands on her tiptoes, trying to see what's going on. Valera giggles, and climbs off of me. "Ever so sorry, Mrs Slate, I fell." She apologises, smoothing out her skirt. She holds out a hand to help me out as Mother starts to laugh. "I've told you, Valera, it's Ashlar. Now, are you staying? Because Aziel spent all morning at the Academy and now he's only got half an hour to get ready." She pretends to glare at me, but steps aside to let us both in. Sif immediately drags Val into a long conversation about some boy at school which sounds mind-numbingly boring but Val just laughs and gives her advice, as I run upstairs to get ready.

I decide to wear a long sleeved grey shirt, with cargo pants. I fix my brown hair and step back to look at my reflection. Just before I'm about to leave, I decide to ditch my school shoes and slip into my trusty boots from the Academy. I feel they make me look stronger, more ruthless. Once I'm happy, I step out my room and fling myself down on the banister, and whirl down it - nearly bumping into a dolled-up Aviva, who's holding her high heels in her hand. "Aziel!" she shrieks, jumping back against the wall, and I just laugh and call back a sorry.

Downstairs, the rest of my family plus Val are all waiting. Mother starts gushing about how good I look, and Father just nods and says I look like a career. The comment somehow wakes me up, and I nod. A career. That's what I'll be. The thought makes me stand a little taller, my smile disappear and my shoulders fall back. After waiting for Aviva, who appears ridiculously over-dressed for someone not even eligible, we begin to leave.

Val loops her arm through mine and we walk ahead of the rest of my family, neither of us talking. The silence is comfortable, though, and when we reach the square I kiss her gently on the lips. "Hey," I say, "I'll see you in a second." She smiles and walks off, and I walk to my section. There, Ryker is stood with our two other friends - Dax and Nero - talking about something or other. "Aziel!" They cry, as I walk over to them. "You ready to Volunteer, mate?" Nero asks, and I open my mouth to say something when he interrupts me, "make sure you're the first up there, and run if you need to. There's no set person this year, the spots up for grabs for anybody." I just nod, and turn my attention to the stage - picturing where I'll stand in a few minutes.

Candie Flosse, our escort, begins to talk, and I zone her out. It's not that I'm bored, but I hate her voice. The Capitol are a bunch of freaks.

I'm vaguely aware of someone getting reaped, and then I see the calm, confident Katrenna stroll on stage, volunteering loudly. I watch her stand, arms crossed, as Candie opens another envelope. "Duty Lopez!" I quickly make my way up stage, yelling "I volunteer!" I'm aware of another boy say it at the same time, but break into a sprint and make it to the stage first.

I stand on stage, looking triumphally across the crowd. Some people are clapping, others - the youngsters - looking up at me in awe. I stand tall and strong, shake Katrenna's hand and march into the Justice Building, excitement spreading across my body. Inside the room, I sprawl across the sofa, waiting for my visitors. First up, is my family. Mother and my sisters hug me tight and say how they'll miss me, but I'll be back soon - right? Aviva and Sif give me a golden locket containing our most recent family portrait. Father hugs me quickly, as if he was embarrassed, and quickly talks strategy. Just before they leave, he claps a hand on my shoulder and tells me how proud he is.

Then, is Nero, Dax and Ryker. The visit is pretty brief, and honestly I'm waiting for Val. She comes in last, bursting into the room and flinging her arms around my neck, holding on tightly. "I'll miss you so much." She murmurs. I let go, hold her shoulders and look into her eyes. "I'll be back before you know it." I grin, and kiss her forehead. She turns to leave, but then stops, and turns around. "I love you." She whispers, and then she leaves and I am alone with a plan forming in my mind.


	4. District Three Reapings

**AN**

 **This is my sixth time reading writing this. I'm nowhere near happy, especially with Tripp's, but I really wanted to get this done. So, sorry for this crap, but anyhow, enjoy.**

* * *

 **Soren Rivendell, 14, Day before Reaping**

"What did you get?"

When I was younger, I used to think that if I couldn't see someone, they couldn't see me. Of course, Mother put this idea out of my head pretty quickly, but at this moment I wish it was true. Although, I can still see her, sort of. Her hands on my desk, and her hair brushing my pencil case.

"Soren. Weren't you ever taught that it's rude to ignore people?"

I sigh, and look up. Alexi Spanner is stood, with a sly smirk, her eyes boring into mine. Behind her are Ion James and Dot Drive, stood in a triangle-like format. For a second I pity them, always in her shadow and trying to copy her trademark smirk.

I smile up at Alexi sweetly, and push my paper towards her. Her eyes flicker down to the "100%" scrawled at the top in red pen, and then she looks back up to glare at me. "You know, Alexi, it was right there. You could have just read it, if you knew how to." I say the words slowly and clearly, as if speaking to a three year old. Alexi growls - actually growls - and flounces off. Ion and Dot stand and glare at me for a second before strutting off after her. The girl who sits next to me snorts with laughter, but I just roll my eyes.

It's no secret that Alexi is stupid, pretty much the only student who doesn't fit Three's stereotype. Her parents are rich, though, and recently paid for our new school hall, so the teachers have to say that she's "on her way to being on target!" Meanwhile, I'm the smartest kid in our year, much to Alexi's dislike. I normally get 100% on all my tests, and if I don't, well - Mother doesn't need to know.

I used to be good friends with Ion. We'd play in the sandpit together every day, and then Alexi took her round her house for tea, and she was suddenly obsessed with her. "You can't even afford to feed yourself!" She had sneered to me the next day, explaining why we couldn't continue our plastic-dinosaurs-versus-sand-village, and had walked off, arms linked with Alexi's. For a while I used to think it wasn't her fault. She didn't know Father had died, that he had brought the most money. As I grew, I began to realise how pathetic I had been, and how bratty Ion was.

Now, I pretty much have no friends. I know what they say about me behind my back, that I'm rude and cold and distant. I don't care, though. My classmates are annoying, and so is the pointless chatter being thrown around the classroom - my friend likes you and did you hear about the fight and what did you get on the test. To put it bluntly, they're loud and upbeat and _happy_ and its annoying.

The bell signalling the end of school rings out, it's shrill call emitting joyous yells. Gaggles of girls walk out the classroom, giggling and gossiping, and already a bunch of boys are kicking around a football outside. As per usual, I'm the last to leave.

I don't want to go home. I don't want to see Mother. She's never proud of me. No, "well done Soren" or "good job Soren", it's all "well that's what was expected" and "you could have done better." Always sat, with judgmental eyes and venomous comments. The walk home is long, mainly because I walk slowly. The autumn leaves have fallen to the ground, making the dull concrete path burst into a palette of colour - vibrant oranges and dark maroons and deep blood reds, and browns in so many shades I lose count. I go out of my way to step on the ones that give the most satisfying crunch, the ones that have fallen directly underneath the stripped trees.

I'm out of the town centre now, past the merchant streets and most of the seam houses. We used to live in one of those, before Father died. Now, I have to look around to make sure nobody from school sees me before I scurry down my road. The houses here are made from wood, with mud used as a makeshift cement. Diseases spread like fire, and the actual fires are common here. Children wailing and parents crying are not unusual sounds. If you live here, you've hit a new low. Families come and go all the time, nobody survives much around here. Aside from us.

After Father died, Mother began to become harsher. I used to resent her for it, even though deep down I knew she was just trying to toughen me up. Now I'm not sure if I feel anything to her. I've toughened up, alright. The kids in the younger years are scared of me. The ones in my class think I'm a freak. I'm tired of it, I've done being tough and now I want nothing more in the world to feel _loved_ by her.

* * *

 **Tripp Mercier, 16, Day of Reaping**

"Annesley are you okay here?"

I put her down on the floor, and she looks up at me with her big blue eyes, worry clearly plastered all over her face. I grin, and point to the heap of metal behind me. "I'll just be up there, okay? I promise I won't be long." I bend forwards and tap her on the nose twice. "Beep beep!" This sends her into a fit of giggles, and she relaxes. I'm not happy with bringing her here, but I didn't have much choice this time.

I begin to climb up the metal mountain, sorting through the scraps at the same time. "Don't worry, Annie, this is fun!" I call down. In truth the District 3 scrap yard is not fun. It's boring and grey and all it is is discarded metal that the inventors and factory workers didn't want. And it's no place for a two year old, not when I've come back home so many times with scratches and bruises from when I've been careless handling sharp metal, or fallen off the mound. With this in mind, I turn around, yet again checking on my sister, only to find her gazing up at me with interest, completely safe.

She's the reason I'm here. She turns three next week, and I've been making her a metal doll, carefully painted pastel pink and purple. The paint was beyond expensive - I don't want to think about what necessities we have to go without this month - and its taking me _so_ long, hours spent hunched over the workbench every night and cuts zigzagged all over my fingers from where I'm too tired, too sloppy and I make mistakes. Birthdays in the past have gone by with no mention - no presents or cake. But I want hers to be different.

The doll should be finished by now, but I've forgotten one vital thing - shoes. Normally I would get Merry or Techala to look after Annie whilst I'm here, but today is Reaping day and they are busy trying to get their own siblings washed and presentable. I find myself looking down at Annie again, to check she's okay, purely out of habit. Mother died in childbirth to her, and Father is normally so busy at work that there's only one person to look after her - me. Merry says that she's brought out a protective side in me, and I guess she's right.

Once I've gotten my desired metal, I clamber back down the metal heap and scoop Annesley into my arms. The walk home is short, we live close to the heap, and I enjoy it. Annie is on my right hip, the metal in my left hand, and she's pointing out birds in the sky, squealing in delight when she sees a cat perched on a wall. Then our house comes into view and she's squirming, yelling at me to let her down because she's seen a figure in our window, for once dad's home. She runs up the frosty path and hammers her tiny fists on the door, chanting "dad dad dad dad!" And he opens the door, picks her up and twirls her around. She screams in delight and I slowly walk up to them, smiling and realising how happy I am, how nothing can change it.

* * *

 **Soren Rivendell, 14, day of Reaping.**

I pull the faded yellow dress down, urging it to reach my knees. But once I let go, it bounces back up to mid-thigh and I groan. It's another hand me down, I'm pretty sure one of my aunt's wore this when she was my age, although she must have been a couple of inches smaller. "Hurry up Soren." Mother snaps without stopping or turning around, and I pick up my pace, catching up with her.

The town square is in sight, the entire population of Three slowly milling in, twelve year olds crying and mothers with worried expressions. Mine doesn't say anything. She gives me a curt nod and walks off. I fall in line behind the other children, signing in and awaiting who will be sent to their deaths this year.

I stand with the other 14 year old girls, and I'm vaguely aware of Ion and Alexi stood in front of me, grasping each other's hands in anticipation, in worry. The escort walks on stage, a man who can only be described as blue. Dark blue hair, turquoise skin, icy blue eyes. He's new, our old escort as a middle aged woman with skin tinged yellow and stringy green hair. No wonder they replaced her.

The man plays a video and reads out a speech, and then he walks over to the glass bowl, where the female names of District Three are written in cursive handwriting. And he picks one out, walks back on stage and reads it out.

Reads out my name.

* * *

 **Tripp Mercier, 16, day of Reaping**

A pang of sadness overcomes me as a I watch the girl walk out of her section. She's only fourteen, and she looks so frail, she'll never last. It's only when she begins screaming abuse at the escort do I realise who she is. A tougne that mean, words that harsh? Has to be Soren Rivendell. But she's smart, very smart, if she knows how to apply it well she could last quite long.

The escort looks shocked, and when Soren stands on stage next to him he takes a step sideways, leaving a larger gap between them. He hurriedly picks a name from the male section and opens it, studying the name for a second before reading it out.

"Tripp Mercier!"

I stare up the escort. He's so unaware that he's just sent me to a death sentance, that I'm never coming back. I take a few shaky steps up to the stage, and halfway through I think of something. _The doll will always be barefoot. And_ then, a second later, _I haven't even painted her toenails._

It's so stupid, but I find myself laughing quietly, making the people I pass look at me in confusion. I join Soren and the escort on stage, shake Soren's hand and walk into the Justice Building, all the whole trying to stiffle my laugh.

First, Father comes in with a rather confused and slightly bored Annesley. In silence, he sweeps me into a hug, squashing Annie between us. We only break apart when she starts pumelling my chest, yelling furiously. Father puts her on the ground and I squat down. I kiss her on the tip of the nose, and she rubs it off with an "ew!" It is then I realise I'm crying. Father encloses me into another hug, and then there's a knock on the door, and a Peacekeeper demanding that they leave. Father thrusts his pocketwatch at me, and tells me he loves me as they're dragged out.

The last thing I hear before the door slams shut is Annie crying.


	5. District Four Reapings

**AN**

 **hohoholy fuck where have I been? Well, summer schools, camp and moving to a new house, that's where. But I know that's a pretty shitty excuse and one that everyone uses so to tell you the truth - I lost half this chapter and just did not have the heart to re write it.**

 **So, like always - _I hate this chapter so much._**

 **But I love the tributes so so so much, Lynne and Eddy will not disappoint, I hope :) There is a LOT of gay in this, and homophobic slurs - from both tributes - just to warn you.**

 **-Maddy**

* * *

 **Lynne Arlen, 18**

"Hey, dyke, where the fuck do you think you're going?"

My hand freezes over the door knob, my throat suddenly dry. I pull my hand away from the door, but don't turn to look at him. I know that if I do, I'll find the two of them sprawled over the sofa, breath reeking of strong liquor, and it'll make it worse. "Uhm," I say, my throat dry, "to Kawthar's." I mumble.

"Speak up mouse, we can't hear you." A different voice. Her voice. Raspy from smoking and with a vicious tone. Her words are heavy and cold, and for a second I let my mind flicker back to a caring mother, who once told me she loved me. How are these women the same person?

"To Kawthar's." I say again, clearer. Two snorts of laughter come from behind me.

"Yeah, of course. You're always at _Kawthar's."_ he says, the last word a poor imitation of my voice. "God, Jen, you would think she prefers being there than here!" The two snigger, like school children. I don't say anything, but my chest feels heavy and I feel drained, I just want to sit down.

"Get out, fag." I quickly step outside, not needing to be told twice. I stuff my hands into my coat pockets, and begin to quickly walk down to the familiar road. It's cold, icy cold, even here in Four, and my thin scarf, second hand coat and poorly-knitted gloves are doing little to protect me. My heart is still beating hard and fast, even when the house is out of view. It'll never be my home. No, my home is with my grandmother in her warm kitchen, a crackling fire and something homemade in the oven. She knows I'm coming today, it's a Monday morning and I always visit on Monday mornings, so she'll definitely be cooking or baking. I think of the last thing she baked, cookies. A luxury, and even better when you bit into them and warm chocolate oozed into your mouth. The last thing I ate back at the house, my breakfast this morning, however, was yesterdays leftover rabbit and potato stew. Cold.

Soon, I see the white picket fence, with rose bushes growing outside the painted red door, and I pick up my pace. I break into a smile as the door flies open, and Kawthar flings open her arms. I grin to myself and run, about to throw myself into her when I remember her age and slow down just in time to give her a carerful hug. "Morning Lynne!" She chirps, holding me out by the shoulders and giving my face a once over.

I wait for her to notice the bruise, right on my jaw. A splatter of deep purples and blacks, outlined with a slight green. A single punch from him, when he was in a bad mood, last night. She, my mother, just watched, a sick grin on her face which I almost mistook for her enjoying it. But then I noticed her cloudy eyes and the bottle of burning liquor in her hand all I felt was _pity._

Kawthar's eyes flicker down the bruise and she sucks in her breath. She doesn't say anything about it directly, but I see the anger in her eyes and I know what she wants to say.

"Come in then, let's sort that out."

 _I'll kill him one day._

"Sit down darling, would you like a hot drink?"

 _I'm so, so, sorry._

"You can stay here all morning, if you want, Ly."

 _One day, you won't ever have to go back there._

* * *

 **Eddy Atheneanos, 18**

The weak morning sunlight pours into the room, highlighting the furniture and creating shadows that flicker across my floor. I've been awake for ages, watching my window. I can see the sea from my room, and slowly a lazy trickle of fishermen are making their way to the ships. Dan, one of my fathers, will be among them - working hard to get his pay check.

Downstairs I hear the kettle boil and an off-key tune being sung, and I smile slightly to myself, although not tearing my eyes from the window. I hear the whistle of the kettle, some mugs being moved around, a spoon being stirred and then - "Eddy! Breakfast!" Right on cue.

I swing my legs out of bed and stretch, then slowly plod my way down stairs. Tom, my other father, is singing a song he probably made up, apron tied and busily moving around the kitchen. He turns when he hears me coming in, and his face breaks into a smile. "Eddy! How did you sleep?"

"Fine, thanks." I nod, slipping behind the table. "I don't have training, because of the Reaping, so do you need any help at all today?" I ask. Tom pauses by the table, pan in one hand and spatula in the other, to think. He shrugs and empties the pan onto my plate - blueberry pancakes - and then says, "No, not really. I'm off today, too. Your Father might need help after the Reaping, bringing back the fish."

There's a moment of silence, and then he says, more to himself, "but you won't be here." And shuffles away, back to the oven. I sigh, but don't let it get to me. Don't they realise this is for them? Imagine what we could do with the money! They've paid for 10 years of training, I just want to pay them back. And besides, I want to make them proud of me, and my District. Sure, people know me - "Oh yeah, tall Eddy with the gay parents" - but I want them to be _proud_ of me.

Tom sits across from me at the table, hands wrapped around a mug of tea and deep in thought. "I might actually, uh, go get in some last minute training." I say. Tom looks up, bites his lip and nods. "Of course, lil' baby." I roll my eyes slightly at the nickname, but don't say anything. After eating, I wash up my plate and make my way upstairs. I dress quickly in the Academy clothes, and slip out of the door.

I love my Fathers, they're the only people (according to Sky) that I'm actually "half decent and polite" to. (Apparently I'm "cold and silent" to every one else.) But my friends at the Academy, they understand me wanting to Volunteer. I sigh.

I breathe in the fresh air, slightly salty from living so close to the sea, and let myself smile a little. _Home._

* * *

 **Lynne Arlen, 18**

"You best be going then, pet."

I bow my head, chin touching my chest, and give a small nod. I wring my hands in my lap, not looking up at her. A hand touches my shoulder gently. "Lynne." I look up, meeting the warmest, kindest eyes I have ever seen. "It's not that I don't want you here, it's just that you've got the Reaping in an hour." I sigh, but then a thought springs to mind.

"Do you still have that dress I left behind here age ago? Couldn't I just wear that? Please Kawthar, I don't want to go back." I say the last bit quietly, suddenly feeling very small. "Of course."

I quickly walk into the guest room, which, honestly, is most of the time my bedroom. I mean, the wardrobe is full of my clothes. I pull out the white gown and slip it over my head, and then tie a red velvet rope around my waist. Finally, I unpin the dolphin badge from Kawathar for my birthday 8 years ago, and pin it on my left shoulder. I get out a cardboard box labelled in "Lynne's shoes" in Kawthar's elegant handwriting, and pick out a comfy pair of black flats.

I slip down stairs, where Kawthar is stood, lingering in the door way and waiting for me with a small smile. My hand finds hers and we walk, in a comfortable silence, to the Town Square, where the rest of Four's quaint population are slowly filing in, anxious faces on the youngest and bored chatter amongst the oldest.

We don't have a set two picked to volunteer, like One and Two. Some of the ones who train think it's an honour to get picked, although I'm not sure if they'd actually ever Volunteer. I've trained, too. Not for the Hunger Games, no. Kawthar trained me in secret, sort of in case I was ever Reaped, but really for self defense. I might be quiet and shy, but I'm strong. I'm just too scared to use it against _them._

I've been so lost in my thoughts that checking in goes by in a blur, and then I'm shuffling in with the rest of the eighteen year olds. To the right of me, two girls have their arms linked and are chattering aimlessly about crushes and clothes, and most of me longs to introduce myself, join in. But the other part tells me _no, you'll look stupid_ and that's the part I listen to.

Our escort has bubbled onstage, a young woman with rabbit ears and a fluffy white tutu, with whiskers that I hope are only make up. She introduces herself as Bunnie White, and begins to speak about wars and treason and The Games. And then, the moment has come, and she's picked a piece of white card from the females bowl. And a thought pings into my head.

 _I could Volunteer. I could get away from Mother and Moselle, forever - if I come home in a box or with a crown it doesn't matter, I could get away._

I push the thought to the back of my mind, scolding myself foe being idiotc. But then Bunnie reads out "Lydia Shore!" And one of the girls next to me gasps and the other begins to wail, clutching onto her arm and begging for help and please, Lydia, you can't go.

And suddenly the idea is swirling around my mind, becoming louder and louder and I find myself stepping out and yelling "I volunteer!"

And then I'm on stage and shaking hands with a boy I don't really take in, and we're both taken into the Justice Building.

"Lynne! Oh Lynne my baby what have you _done?!"_

Kawthar bursts into the room, tears streaking down her face and her hands shaking. I stare down at her hands, hands that I have relied on to be steady all my life - cleaning up the blood from my lip, applying expensive make up to cover up a black eye, seeing back together broken clothes, piping "happy birthday Ly!" onto cupcakss. My heart in my throat, I sweep her into a hug, trying not to cry. How could I leave Kawthar? My mother doesn't speak to her, my grandfather dead and no other grandchildren. I'm overcome with a wave of guilt.

With a last "I promise I'll be back" Kawthar is gone, and I'm left to figure out how that promise will be made.

* * *

 **Eddy Atheneanos, 18**

 _Slice. Stab. Turn. Slice. Stab. Turn_

I finish with one last slice and then turn around, breathless. The dummies lie on the floor, covered in fake blood. I nod slowly to myself, proud, and look down at my trident. I put it on the rack and then turn to leave, only to find myself coming face to face with a gaggle of 10 year olds, watching in awe.

"Eddy! Can the new intakes ask you some questions?" The trainer, Myra, asks. She's armed with a clipboord and pen, and I know "no" is not an answer here. I nod.

"How Did you get so good?" A little girl asks, grinning a toothy smile.

"Practice." I do not smile back.

"What's your favourite weapon?" A boy asks, his gaze flickering to the tridents behind me.

"Spears."

"Are you looking forward to Volunteering?" Another boy from the back pipes up.

"Yes." I say. They all stare up at me, waiting for me to say something else, but I don't. Myra thanks me and takes the kids to archery, probably to pester someone else.

My arms ache from spinning around a heavy trident, so I grab a bottle of water from the canteen and then pick an empty table, sprawling into a chair and putting my feet up on another.

"Hey Eddy." Inwardly I sigh when I don't recognise the voice. It's a girl I don't know, and she's staring at most of my legs that are falling off the chair. "Yes?" I ask. She looks up at me and gives me a smile, which I don't return. "A girl came in looking for you. Onora, her name was I think. Said something which was ninety percent swearing and the other ten something like "get his ass to his house." I don't know."

I nod. The girl hangs around for a bit, waiting for me to say something, but I don't. She leaves in a huff.

I make my way home, where in my kitchen Onora is sat at the table, the same spot I was this morning, chatting away to Tom and Dan, who had come home early. I nod hello to Dan, and sit opposite Onora. She grins at me, eyes alive with mischeif. "Why are you here?" I ask bluntly. She shrugs, and mutters something about getting kicked out somewhere, and can I hurry up because we have a goddamn Reaping to go to.

I roll my eyes and make my way upstairs, where I throw on skinny jeans and a dark blue dress shirt. I slip on my shoes and walk downstairs, where my father's are stood against a wall, whilst Onora has her back to me and blocking the door way. Once I get closer I see she's talking to Sky and Rio, my other two friends. I flash them a small grin, but don't say anything, and slip outside - Dan and Tom following.

Once at the Reaping, I pretty much zone out. Some ridiculous Capitol woman blabbing on. Sometimes I like the Capitol, other times they're just a bit... odd. She calls a girl's name and another girl Volunteers, which is a small surprise, and next to me Sky's eyebrows shoot up. "Damn." He grins and I frown at him. The girl is okay - tall and curvy with thick brown hair and green eyes that look so wounded and hurt. "Isn't she the lez?" Rio hisses beside me, and I just shrug.

Then, my moment is here.

One card.

One name.

One opportunity.

Two words.


	6. District Five Reapings Part One

**District Five Reapings**

 **Part 1/2**

* * *

 **Somalia Makinson, 15**

 **·······**

 _"Malia, be quiet."_

 _I look up, eyes wide. "What, why?" A hand flies over my mouth, clamping my lips shut. Startled, I look up at my older brother. "August, what?" I try to say, but his hand muffles my words. He drops his arm and nods to the table a few meters to our left. It's heavily guarded by Peacekeepers, and a long line of Reaping age children are behind it, a blanket of gloom settled upon them. These, these are the children who will trade their name for more grain and oil, who will risk being sent to their deaths to feed their families._

 _"What are you doing?" I say, suddenly scared. Tomorrow will be August's first Reaping, and his name is already in eleven times. "Augie, you can't do it again. You promised Ma!" He looks down, and I can see the sadness in his eyes, but then the mischievous glint takes over. "I'm going to get the grain, Malie. But I'm not going to put my name in." I frown, not quite understanding. He squats down so our eyes are level, and trucks a strand of my raven black hair begin my ear. "Wait here, Somalia. Look natural. If anyone asks, say your Ma is in the butchers and you're scared of the dead animals so you came out here." I frown, and push his arm down. "I'm not scared, I'm six! Six is brave! If I was five I would be scared but now I'm six so I'm not!"_

 _August sighs and bites his lip. "Somalia, this is serious. Nobody's going to ask, you're not likeable enough to approach-" he laughs lightly at that "-but if they do, can you say that? That Ma is in the butchers?" I nod, suddenly scared. "Augie, isn't stealing bad?" He smiles sadly at me, and straightens up. He doesn't look me in the eye. "Yes. Yes, it is. But we're dying, Malia. Look how thin we are. I'm not old enough to get a job, and two pitiful wages isn't enough." He looks down at me, serious. "Stay here. I'll be back in a second. I love you, Malia."_

 _I watch him join the line, sending me a reassuring smile. He makes idle chit chat with the boys in front of him, and I'm amazed at how well he's doing this. It doesn't look fake at all. August is so brave, so fearless._

 _In no time he's at the front of the queue, and I take a deep breath. I take a few steps closer, just in ear shot. I watch him reach for a bag of grain, but a Peace keeper stops him. "Name?" August laughs, and puts a hand on his chest. "Silly me, I forgot! It's, um-"_

 _And then he grabs the bag and sprints towards me. The peacekeepers yell at him, and just as he reaches me, one whips out a gun. "August!" I scream, but it's too late._

 _The bullet hits his back,_

 _The blood sprays from his mouth,_

 _The grain hits the floor,_

 _Before he realises it's too late._

 _The Peace keepers swarm his body, and I feel frozen to the spot. "August." I whisper. But he's being taken away, in one motion so swift and quick that for a second I don't know if it really happened. I look down at the concrete road in front of me, where the scattered grain trodden on by peacekeepers is stained red. I bend down, and with shaky hands, begin to pick out the grain that isn't coated in blood._

 _And when I walk away, I leave somebody behind. Somalia Makinson._

* * *

 **Ephriam Calloway, 17**

 **·······**

 _It's silent._

 _I open my mouth to speak and then shut it again, completely bewildered by what just happened. I should feel something - anything - but I don't. It's like there's a massive hole where my heart should be. There's a sharp intake of breath from everyone around us, and when the reality settles in I feel a wave of grief overcome me._

 _Next to me, my Mother lets out a peircing wail, finally breaking the silence. The old woman next to me shifts uncomfortably, but I only see her out the corner of my eye. I'm too focused on the screen in front of me, where my sister lies with her throat slit open and her eyes wide and glassy._

 _It doesn't seem real. This happens to other families, it doesn't happen to me. To us. To Demina. Suddenly the reality that she's gone, that I'm now an only child hits me like a punch in the chest. I struggle to breathe, trying to get air into my lungs but failing. It's so surreal. I wait for the commentators to laugh, for Demina to get up and say "you should have seen your face, Ephriam!" But nothing happens. I wish I never heard the cannon._

 _"My baby!"_

 _Mother crumbles - collapsed onto her knees and sobs racking her body. "Oh my baby, my baby, my little girl - Demina **no!** " I turn my head to look over at Father, unsure of what to do. He's pale, a hand over his mouth and looking at the screen in horror. I follow his gaze to where Demina's body is still lying on the floor, but now, the remaining two tributes battle over her - barely acknowledging the corpse beneath her._

 _And then, it happens._

 _"You let this happen! Your people send our kids to death and you let them! You protect them!" Mother stands up, pointing an accusing finger at the nearest peacekeeper. "Mother..." I whisper. I know this will only bring trouble, but I don't have the energy to stop her. It's like I've been drained. The peacekeeper ignores her. "How dare you! How dare you! This is all your fault!"_

 _The old woman from earlier rests a hand on Mother's arm, trying to calm her. "No!" Mother says, stepping back. She looks around, eyes crazed. "The Capitol will pay! How are they getting away with murder?"_

 _"What you say is treason." The peacekeeper walks forward, gun raised, but Mother is beyond caring. "Yes, it is. Is that a bad thing?" Father spits venom at the Peacekeeper, stepping in front of Mother. I step back, afraid._

 _Without a warning, the peacekeeper guns down Father, and when Mother begins to scream, he aims his gun at her and pulls the trigger. Around us, the town breaks havoc, running in different directions and screaming, but I'm only aware of the two bodies in front of me - white shirt stained crimson and a red flower blossomed onto a white dress - and the peacekeeper. "You bastard! You bastard!" I scream, moving in front of him. I'm vaguely aware of someone screaming my name._

 _The peacekeeper sneers at me, and shoves me hard. I land onto the floor, blood immediately seeping out of my hands. But I don't feel anything. I'm stand up, all ready to punch the peacekeeper, when strong arms lift me. "Ephraim. Stop." Uncle Rylan's gentle yet firm voice orders me, and I obey. I turn weak, and let tears slide down my face. "We're sorry about him." The peacekeeper just nods and walks away._

 _On the television, the commentator announces the Victor's name. It's not Demina Calloway._

 _In the space of twenty seven minutes, I have lost my entire family._


	7. District Five Reapings Part Two

**District Five Reapings**

 **Part 2/2**

 **Somalia Makinson, 15**

 **·········**

I wake with a start, panting and sweating, my eyes darting around for dangers from a nightmare I do not remember. I wait until my breathing has calmed, and then lie back down, staring up at the sky that has been shielded by leaves. I found this place shortly after August died, and have been coming here ever since. It's also where I found September. Speaking of, I sit up and frantically start looking for the dog. I found him here, in this hide out in a bush, three years back, and he's been my companion ever since.

"September?" I call, my voice hoarse and low from sleeping, and a second later he comes trotting into the hide out, tongue out and panting. I grin, swivel round onto my knees and begin to scratch him behind the ears. "Morning Sept." He licks me in the mouth and I groan, pushing him away. "We better go back, I guess." I sigh, and run a hand through my hair. I crawl out of the opening to the hide out, and into the morning sun. I bask in it for a second, before the cold of the beginnings of winter hit me and a shiver runs down my spine.

I click my tongue and begin to walk, September at my heel. It's the day before the Reapings, so the market that's usually in the square of Five is beginning to close down. I push through the cries of market owners trying to rid their last produce, past the busy families buying discounted, last-day food. The crackle of electricity ripples through wires above us, and being from Five that's not unusual. I follow the wire to where it stops, the Justice Building. My gaze flickers to the scene beneath, a long line of children miserably waiting in front of the tessera table. My throat goes dry. I look down to where I'm standing, and I'm startled to find, and remember, the exact same cracks in the pavement from 9 years ago.

 _9 years ago today._

I shake the thought from my head, and carry on walking, September closely following. A row of birds sit in the trees above us, whistling a loud tune to one another, sounding like they're bickering. God. The birds are arguing and have more of a social life than me.

The house comes into view, and I sigh inwardly, trying to remember if we have people round today. I push open the door, and the sound of idle chit chat, polite laughter and work related figures being thrown around confirms what I was dreading. Father has work colleagues round for some sort of casual meeting - and you know what that means? Being treated like a fucking waitress for the next few hours. I can barely contain myself, trust me. Although, it wont be any different to usual, I guess. "Somalia, get this." "Somalia, hang up my coat." "Somalia, make our guests some tea." "Somalia, don't be our daughter be our servant!"

I try to slip up the stairs without being noticed, but Mother spies me through the archway to the dining room. "Somalia! Come in here!" _Fuck._ I put on my sweetest smile and walk into the dining room, and have to contain myself from bobbing a curtsey to the royal bloody couple. "Oh good day, Mother, what is going on that I have to grace you with my presence?" I say sweetly, smile still on my face. Mother scowls, and the woman next to her chokes on her food. "Somalia, don't be rude." I drop the smile and roll my eyes, but dare to take it farther. "So, what do you want me to do this time? I could clean the entire house? Oh, wait. I did that yesterday. Aand, the day before. Aaaand, the day before. And every other day, because I'm your slave."

The guest's all begin to look in the other direction, making small talk with the people next to them. Father stands up, fists clenched, "Somalia that is _enough._ We were going to ask if you could look after Belle and Justin, Mrs Wire's children. They like dogs, maybe you could show them that mongrel of yours." He motions to the corner, and it is then that I see the little girl, no more than 5, sat down behind a tiny table, and colouring in. Sat in a high chair next to her is a little boy - around one, looking at us with his big, blue eyes.

Oh.

I roll my eyes at Father and quietly walk over to the table, September closely following. I pull out a chair opposite the children, and the girl looks up at the noise, coming face to face with me. She gives me a smile, two front teeth missing, and puts down her crayon. "Hello! I'm Belle and this is my little brother Justin. He's only one and he doesn't do a lot, but he's cute. I want to be an electrician when I'm older. What do you want to be?" She babbles on, much to my amusement. She doesn't wait for an answer, because she's noticed September.

"Awe! He's so cute!" She jumps from her chair and kneels by his side, scratching behind his ears and talking to him like he is a baby. The boy, Justin, angrily smashes down on his highchair, annoyed that he's not stroking the dog. I giggle at him and pick him up, placing him on my hip. "Dog! Dog! Doggy!" He cries, making the adults from the other table look up. They laugh at the toddler and go back to eating, although Mother keeps her gaze on me, frowning. I know what she's thinking. Why am I so different around smaller children? I look down at Justin, patting Sept on the head. I think of August, who put up with my chatter patiently, who let me tag along with him and his friends, who was so brave and caring and kind. If he had been cruel, if he had snapped at me and lost his temper with my childish games - I would of had nobody.

My parents don't care, they never have. I'm a servant, someone to cook and clean in return for a room. August was everybody's favourite - charming, handsome, polite August who had a future ahead of him. If he had given up on me, I would have been alone and scared.

And the Wires, my Father's superiors at work, haven't given their children a second glance. Oh, Belle looks lovley - blonde hair plaited with blue bows, neat white dress ironed to a crisp and black shoes polished to a shine. But I bet you she's not allowed to scuff her shoes and is scared of staining her dress for she'll be yelled at.

They're young, and innocent and so unaware of the world around them. The Games, the Capitol, the poor. And with semi-rich parents who work for the mayor, like ours, they're always so busy, no time for their children. It's stupid, I know. I'm sarcastic and snappy and downright rude, but put a five year old in front of me and suddenly I'm caring and good hearted. _God._

* * *

 **Ephriam Calloway, 17**

 **··········**

 _ **Night before Reaping**_

"Ephriam?"

The gentle voice of Aunt Ania comes from the other side of the room, and I glance up to find her head poking around my doorway. "We're all going to bed, don't stay up too long." I nod and smile, then go back to my book. I think she's gone, but then she sighs. "Ephriam." I look back up, and she's stood in my room now, frowning at the stack of books on my desk. "Are you still revising? You've been doing that all day!"

I sigh and put down my pen, rubbing my neck. It aches from hunching over books all day - I have moved from my seat twice, to get food and go to the bathroom. "Auntie, my wires and circuits exam is next week...I need to revise." She bites her lip, worried, and then just smiles fondly. "Too hard-working, you. Go to bed soon, love, okay?" I nod, smile reassuringly and watch her walk away.

I don't go to sleep until three hours later.

 _ **Morning of Reaping**_

"Ma! Ma it isn't fair!"

"Are you an eighteen year old boy? No."

"No, Kales, you're just fat."

"Ma! Kaylin called me fat!"

"Kaylin he's not fat, he's growing. It was one extra egg, grow up. Kales - stop being a baby."

I pause on the bottom stair, smiling to myself as I hear my cousins fighting and my aunts tired response. I swing into the kitchen, smile on my face. "Morning"" I chirp, flinging an arm around my aunt and then taking a plate from her hands. "Morning Ephriam!" Kaylin smiles, moving up a seat so I can slip in between my cousins. They're much more like siblings, and very quick to accept me into their family and as their brother.

Aunt Ania puts an egg and a slice of toast onto my plate - straight from the two, sorry excuses for chickens outside. Five isn't very agricultural, so our quality of meat and dairy produces is some times...well, the egg isn't great.

"Peregrine was round earlier, before you were awake." Kales says slyly, elbowing me in the ribs. I flush dark red, and shrug. "So?" Kaylin snorts. "Said it's something to do with that Aaron guy." She adds.

My heart sinks. "Oh." I say, my throat dry. Aunt Ania puts her hand over mine across the table, her eyes sympathetically. "Ephriam, if it makes you feel better then I don't think it was good...She was crying." I look up, startled. "Better finish your breakfast and go see her, love."

I finish my breakfast quickly, then throw on clothes and go to run out of the door, but Kaylin steps in the way before I can leave, something behind her back. "Here." She says, throwing a rose in my hands. "Woo her." And then she's gone, giggling. I stand there, baffled, then laugh and go out of the door.

I find myself knocking on Peregrine's door before I realise what I'm doing. Being childhood friends, I've been to her house many times before and my feet carry me to her house without thinking. Just before I knock on her door, I look down at the rose and then throw it on the floor, stamping hard.

I take a deep breath and knock on the door, and a few seconds later it flies open and Peregrine stands behind it. Her normally golden, curly hair is unbrushed and thrown up into a messy bun, her emerald green eyes bloodshot, her pale skin streaked with tears. "Oh, Peggy..." I whisper softly, using the nickname I gave her from when we're three. My heart aches seeing her like this, and I just want to enclose her in a hug. She grabs my arm and pulls me away from the house, and immediately I know where we are going.

There's a small, scruffy patch of grass, crawling with weeds. In the middle stands a swing set, that nobody has sat on since Peregrine and I were fifteen. It's a disgrace of a park and everyone ignores it, apart from us. This is where she brings me to talk about her worries and troubles, where she pours out her heart. It used to be a regular thing, but the last time we sat here was two years ago.

As soon as we sit down, she begins to tell me some story about the boy age a hopelessly in love with. "And, and then he said he has a girlfriend, even though we kissed last night?! And he's just been pulling me along and it was all a _joke_ and-" she breaks down, sobbing, and I clench my fists. How dare this Aaron guy use my best friend as a joke? I jump off of my swing and kneel down in front of her, taking one of her hands in mine and using the other to brush her fringe out of her eyes.

"Peggy, listen to me. He doesn't deserve you." She looks up at me, and my heart swells as our eyes make contact. "You're beautiful and smart and funny and kind and he's a shitbag." She laughs softly at that. "Like, seriously, _what a douche._ " She sighs and leans forward, resting her head on my shoulder.

"You're like glue, Ephriam. You keep everything together, and you're reliable and strong. What would I do without you?"


	8. District Six Reapings

_an_

 _this one involves lots of swearing and references to drugs, just a heads up. dont forget to review :)_

* * *

 **Ainsley Oiler, 16**

 **·············**

 _Thud. Clang. Thud. Clang._

My hands are sweaty, the handle in my hands slipping out of my grasp occasionally. But I carry on, raising the hammer over my head and bringing it down repeatedly onto the makeshift dummy in front of me. It's nothing compared to the high tech dummies in the academies of One and Two, made of wood and the shape wonky, but it gets the job done.

Three years of practicing in my basement has made the dummy broken beyond repair - dents and holes, with the left arm out at an awkward angle. Three years of practicing with the same hammer has made it chipped, with the silver slowly turning into a black. But I'm no stranger to starvation and threadbare clothes, I know we don't have quite enough money for more wood and new nails and hammers.

I put the hammer back in its place on the workbench, because the basement is also my parents workshop, and head back upstairs. Today is the Reaping day, and I'm hoping to get it over and done with quickly. But a glance at the kitchen clock tells me I still have three hours, so I go upstairs and into mine and Ashleigh's shared room.

My sister is still asleep, gentle snores coming from her mouth. I grin and head to our desk, wondering when I should wake her up. It'll be her third Reaping today, her being fourteen, and I think she's still nervous, despite her "too cool" attitude. I remove the screwdriver being used as a paperweight, and take out my maths homework due in for next week. "But you have a whole week!" Ashleigh would say in disbelief, but I want to get it done.

I fly through the questions, finding it easy. I don't like to boast about it at all, but I'm smart. Quite smart, actually - in fact I'm already on course to become a vehicle designer, one of the highest paying jobs in Six. But you need to be insanely intelligent and focused, and I guess I tick those boxes.

My parents are both auto mechanics, not exactly exciting and the pay isn't great. We're not dirt poor, we have a nice house, enough food and clothes. Sometimes, however, I wish I didn't share a room with my sister, the food wasn't terrible and the clothes weren't always what's cheapest. Oh well. Ashleigh wakes up soon after I've finished the homework, and, as I predicted, rolls her eyes at the sheet in my hand.

"You're too smart, Ainsie." She yawns, padding out of the door and downstairs to get breakfast. I frown at the compliment, not used to getting them, and shrug even though she's gone. Sometimes I wish I _wasn't_ me. I'm shy and smart, so therefore people assume I'm weird and a nerd and don't bother trying to befriend me. I mean, I've got Hanna and Cara, but God did that take a while. I don't really know how to explain it. After everything with Atticus, and before that the gang, I just wish I could be someone else - someone popular and pretty and normal, who doesn't have a drug addicted brother and hasn't split a man's skull open.

I shudder at the memory. Walking home from fixing Mrs Bolten's door, hammer in hand, and bumping into a gang. My only self defence was the hammer, and although the Peacekeepers came, they came a bit too late. I was already brutally injured and I had smashed a man's skull. Three months later, the same Peacekeepers came to our house telling us Atticus was arrested, a week after Ma and Pa kicked him out. They did what they had to, I guess. They turned a blind eye when he used the drug elsewhere, but when we walked in on him with morphing at the house, that was it.

Technically, we can visit him. Ash and I tried it when he first went into prison, and our parents were so mad we were forbidden from seeing him again. So today, at the Reaping, at least I'll get to see him again. Even if he is in the prisoners section, hand cuffed and guarded.

After a moment, I follow Ashleigh downstairs and slip into a chair. Ash is mixing something in a bowl, humming. "Ma and Pa already gone?" She asks over her shoulder. I nod. "They'll be back before the Reaping." In most Districts you'll get a day off from work on Reaping day, but our parents got called out to fix the train that'll leave to the Capitol. Ashleigh hands me a bowl of watery porrige, and we eat in silence, which is unusual for Ash, until there's an uncertain knock at the door.

"You don't have to _knock,_ Cara!"

"B-but, it's not our house?"

I raise my eyebrows in amusement as I hear Hanna's over dramatic sigh.

"Yes, but she's our best friend so we should have some sort of code, instead of plain knocking."

"But she wouldn't know the code?"

Hanna goes to say something but I've walked over to the door and swung it open. Hanna, tall, beautiful and brunette Hanna, girly and excitable, looks up with wide eyes. "Ainsley!" She shrieks, briefly throws her arms around me and then walks into my house. "Why do you sound so surprised, I live here?" I murmur, catching Cara's eye, who giggles. Small, sweet and ginger Cara who wouldn't hurt a fly, cries at everything and is the most socially awkward person I know.

I stand to the side and allow her to come in, and then shut the door behind her. "What are you two doing here?" Cara shrugs, and the expression on her face reads 'Hanna made me.' Hanna claps her hands, grabs one of mine and Cara's, and drags us upstairs. "I actually came to tell you that Tyler asked me out." Cara shakes her head and I stare at her in disbelief. Hanna doesn't notice this and continues to talk. "But then I was like, what's the point in coming here to just tell you that? So Cara and I brought our Reaping outfits and we're all going to get ready together!" She squeaks, clapping her hands again.

Next to me, Cara sighs.

* * *

 **Cedez Treck, 18**

 **···········**

 **Day before Reaping**

I stick to the shadows, hood up and head down, shoulder grazing against the walls. The moon above illuminates my path, the stars staring down, and I feel like I'm being watched and judged. It's stupid, they're only small little white things, the fuck are they gonna do? So I stick my middle finger up at the sky, and laugh triumphantly.

I turn left into an alleyway, all light from the moon disappearing, and suddenly it's dark and damp and a few years ago, I would be scared. I step over some homeless guy and make my way to the hooded figure at the back.

"You're late." He snaps, and spits at my feet. I pause and stare down at my shoes - used to be my past dealers shoes but, hey - where his saliva covers the toe cap. Looking up, I see this guy with his arms folded, leaning against the wall, smug.

I laugh harshly and step right up to him, so that his eyes are level with my chest. This dude can't be more than 5"9, which means I'm six inches taller than him. Who the fuck does he think he is? Anger pumps through my veins and I twist my hand in his shirt, pulling him up so our eyes are level. "I'll get here, when I get here." This middle aged man, skin tinged yellow, sunken eyes, brown teeth and bad breath, nods hurriedly. "Y-yes, of course." I snort and put him down.

He brushes himself down and rolls back his shoulders, then continues like nothing happened. "So, how many vials do you have?" I raise my eyebrows and shake my head. "Aw, cute." I hiss, and he gulps. "Let me see the money first." He gulps and fishes around in his pocket, then produces a wad of notes. I suck in my breath. That's a lot. It could pay for Ma's treatment.

But then, why should this guy get the vials? He's been nothing but a pain in the ass. Besides, I've had a rough night. Well, I havent, I just want to spite this guy.

I take the money and put it in my pocket, daring him to say something. I can see that he wants to, but he's too scared. Too scared of someone 20 odd years younger than him. I keep my hand in my pocket, and next to the money I feel a knife. I wrap my hand around the handle, grinning like a mad man.

The man notices the movement and snaps his head up, eyes open and wild. "No! Please-" He screams, before he's silenced by a knife in his neck. Oh well. He was probably going to make some excuse about having a wife and kids. I laugh bitterly and throw the man to the floor, hand still around the knife. He twitches for second, before going still. I snort, kick his body, and then walk away.

 **Day of Reaping**

The wails coming from the basket next to me is what wakes me up, and I groan and shove a pillow over my head. The baby screams even more when she's not attended to, and, reluctantly, I get up and walk over to her.

She's not that old, Ma and I think about 2 months. She was left on our doorstep, not even in a basket or anything, with a note saying that she's mine. And without doubt, she is. She's got my nose, Ma thinks, and my eyes. They're grey, like mine, but I'm pretty sure they change colour.

I scoop my daughter to my chest and cradle her there, her head over my heartbeat. Her and Ma, my two girls, are the only ones I have left to live for. I adore Thalia, and Ma is ecstatic she has a grandchild, even if the circumstances aren't exactly ideal. I've slept around a bit, yeah, but since Thalia's came into my life, I haven't.

I take her up to Ma's room, knocking on the door and waiting to hear the response. A weak "come in!" comes from inside and I push the door open, bracing myself.

Ma had my older brother Aston, me, my younger twin brothers Rover and Ranger, and then my other little sister Forda. Aston would be 24, Rover and Ranger 12 and Forda 6. But one night, I was out (the same alleyway I visited yesterday) when there was a house fire. None of my siblings or Pa made it, but Ma did. However, she was so distraught about losing four of her children and her husband that she threw herself into the flames.

I got back in time to save her, but she had to lose a leg. That was costly, so costly in fact that we didn't eat for days. The scars are horrifying, you can't recognise her face and everywhere you look on her body are burns. That was 4 years ago, when I was 14, but every time I see her it gets worse. To add onto that, she's been diagnosed with being terminally ill. But with the money...

"Morning Ma." I say softly, and sit down on the end of the bed. In my arms, Thalia looks at Ma and squeals in delight. Ma chuckles, which leads to a coughing fit, but after she's recovered she holds out her arms. I place Thalia in them and stand up, stretching. "I'll go make breakfast." Ma just nods, eyes fixed on her granddaughter with a loving smile.

I grin and pad downstairs, finding some cheese and bread. It's not exactly elegant, but nothing in our life has been.

* * *

 **Ainsley Oiler, 16**

 **············**

I stand in the sixteen year old girls section, Hanna on my right and Cara on my left, clutching both of their hands. I don't know what I would do if one of them got Reaped. I could Volunteer. I'm smart. And everyone thinks I'm shy but actually, I'm quite cunning. Secretive and sly, is what Ash says.

I've zoned out, not focusing on our orange escort, until she walks over to the female bowl and picks out an envelope. Heart beating fast, my grip on my friend's hands goes tighter. The escort walks centre stage, unfolds the slip of paper, takes a second to read over the name, and looks back up.

"Our female representative, for the 57th Hunger Games, is...

Ainsley Kathryn Oiler!"

* * *

 **Cedez Treck, 18**

 **·········**

Shit, I'm late.

After checking in, with Thalia on my hip, I'm directed to go to my section quickly. The Peacekeeper spots Thalia, puts down his pen and sighs. "Your sister?"

"Daughter."

"Right. Is anyone here to look after her for you a sec?"

"My ma is bed ridden." I was losing my temper.

"Stand over there with her. You don't have time to go to your section now anyway." He snaps, pointing to where the parents and ineligible family members wait, nervous. I shrug and stand to join them, watching the scene unfold.

The girl has been Reaped. Obviously she's terrified, but she's not crying. Props to her. Over in the prisoners section, a guy around 20 is thrashing around in his handcuffs and screaming out to her, whilst Peacekeepers hold him back. I recognise the signs of a morphling and then shake my head. That's awkward. I've sold morphine to him before.

* * *

 **Ainsley Oiler, 16**

 **·········**

I stand on stage, willing my legs not to give out. I'm trying to ignore Atticus, but his screams break my heart. In the crowd Hanna and Cara are crying - Hanna loudly and Cara quietly - and Ashleigh is screaming at the Capitol.

"Oh my!" Tanger Ina, our escort, gasps. "Someone's popular!" She giggles. I roll my eyes. How wrong. "Anyway! Our male tribute is..."

She picks a slip of paper, walks back onstage and opens it.

"Cedez Treck!"

There's a ripple of gasps throughout the crowd, mainly in the section where the morphling's take bets. I see Atticus freeze up. "Cedez? Cedez Treck? Where are you?" Tanger squeaks, looking around.

"Here, you piece of Capitol shit."

The voice comes from a tall, strong looking guy holding a tiny, crying baby in his arms. "Somebody take my daughter! Take her back to my Ma..." His voice trails off, looking down at the tiny infant. The woman next to him whispers something to him and he nods, kisses the baby on her head and hands her to the woman, before storming onstage.

Tanger goes to say something but she's cut off by the boy.

"I have lost all four of my siblings and my Pa, my Ma is on her deathbed and to make money to treat her I sell morphling. I have no reason to live other than my daughter. I am a machine. I am seeing _red._ I kill people if they annoy me just because I can, and lady you are annoying the _fuck_ 'outta me."

There's a moment of silence before Tanger motions for the cameras to stop. I turn to shake hands with Cedez, and stare straight into his eyes.

This guy's a threat.

But I'm coming home.


	9. AN

**an**

 **Hi,**

 **I need some time off of here to sort out personal issues that revolve around my family, friendships and mental health - all pretty big stuff so as you can imagine I don't feel great at the moment. Therefore all my works will not be updated for a while, probably 1-4 months. So so sorry, especially for Canary Songs as I know how annoying it is for someone to start a SYOT and then not continue :/ But this hiatus won't be forever and I promisepromisepromise that I will be back shortly, but right now I'm in a bad position and need to sort some stuff out.**

 **Thank you for understanding,**

 **Maddy :)**


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